Chapter Sixty Five.

Chapter Sixty Five.
Viktor stormed into the hospital, his presence dark and heavy, sending nurses and staff scattering in fear. His eyes were sharp, deadly—he looked like a man ready to burn the world down.

He found Anya in the emergency room, seated with her shoulder in a brace and her neck supported. She looked up and froze when she saw him.

“Viktor…” she said carefully.

“What happened?” he growled, his voice low and deadly.

Anya swallowed hard. “We were attacked.”

“I said what the fuck happened.” Viktor snapped, his jaw tightening as he took a step closer.

Anya winced slightly.

“We went to a club. Just for a while. Two men came at us. I managed to take them down but—” she hesitated, her voice dropping, “I got shot… in the shoulder. At the last second, I heard him.”

“Him?” Viktor’s eyes narrowed.

“Marco..” she breathed. “That psycho’s voice… it’s unforgettable.”

Viktor’s fists clenched. “You disobeyed me. You put her in danger.” he spat, eyes filled with fury. “I would’ve fucking shot you myself if you weren’t already injured.”

Anya looked away, guilt tightening in her chest.

“Pray to your god, Anya. Pray she’s fine.” he hissed, already walking away.

He didn’t wait for her reply. His rage was too consuming.

“Mikhail!” he barked as he stepped outside.

“Yes, Boss!” Mikhail answered quickly, already by his side.

“Ground every damn flight leaving Russia. Nobody gets out—not until I say so. I want every port, every airstrip locked down.”

Mikhail nodded immediately. “Understood.”

He looked back at Anya once, her expression filled with dread.

“How’s your arm?” he asked gently.

Anya exhaled slowly. “The pain in my shoulder is nothing. I just… I can’t stop thinking about Xena.”

“We’ll find her.” Mikhail said, trying to sound convincing.

But before he could say more—

“Mikhail! Get the fuck in the car!” Viktor’s voice boomed from outside, slicing through the hallway like a knife.

Mikhail gave Anya one last look and left.

Anya sat back, her eyes burning.

Meanwhile, Viktor slammed the car door shut and gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

“That bastard will wish he never breathed the same air as her.” Viktor muttered, his voice ice cold.

Mikhail fastened his seatbelt beside him, not saying a word.

Viktor’s jaw flexed as the car pulled out onto the road.

Meanwhile…

“What’s the issue?” Marco’s voice sliced through the tension as he stepped into the living room, where his men were gathered, faces tense.

“Viktor is back in Russia.” one of them informed him.

Marco froze mid-step. His jaw clenched hard, his expression hardening with rage.

“Get the jet ready.” he ordered coldly. “We’re leaving. I’ve already taken what belongs to me.”

The men nodded, scattering instantly to carry out his command.

Marco’s eyes darkened as his thoughts spiraled.

That fucking Russian mutt really needs to learn a lesson—never touch what’s not his. She’s mine. She’s always been mine.

He turned and walked back toward the room like a storm brewing under his skin, every step heavy with possession.

But when he entered… there was silence.

An eerie kind of silence that immediately sent a prickle down his spine.

His eyes scanned the room slowly. The bed, empty. The corners, bare. The shadows, too quiet.

His heart skipped.

And then—crack!

Something slammed against the back of his head with brutal force.

Marco let out a sharp hiss, stumbling forward in shock. Before he could recover, pain exploded through his body—

Xena’s knee drove right between his legs.

“Fuck!” he groaned, falling to his knees.

She didn’t hesitate. Xena shoved him backward with everything she had and bolted.

His eyes widened through the pain as he saw her—his obsession, his chaos—disappearing through the door like smoke he couldn’t grasp.

“Xena!” he roared, his voice thundering through the hall, filled with fury and disbelief.

“XENA!”

Xena’s breaths came in harsh, terrified gasps as her bare feet pounded down the hallway. The blood in her ears roared louder than his voice behind her.

She reached the living room, heart slamming against her chest. She looked around desperately, every second ticking like a countdown to destruction.

There—the door.

She ran.

But before her fingers could twist the knob, she heard him behind her. The low, hateful groan of a man denied.

“I lost you once.” Marco’s voice rasped, closer now. “For years. I won’t again. I’ll fucking die before I let you go.”

Xena spun around, her eyes wild, and grabbed a heavy, jagged interior décor piece—some sculpted glass shard on a stand. She held it like a weapon, hands shaking but fierce.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’ll ever stay with you.” she snapped, her voice cracking with raw rage and fear.

Marco leaned against the wall, still panting, the pain still etched into his face—but his eyes… his eyes held that same terrifying obsession.

“You’re mine, Xena.” he breathed, slowly straightening.

And Xena tightened her grip on the weapon as her back hit the door.

“No, I am NOT!” Xena screamed, voice cracking with rage as she hurled the heavy object straight at him.

Marco barely dodged it—glass shattered behind him with a violent crash—and before he could reach her, she yanked the door open and bolted out like her life depended on it.

“Fuck!” he cursed, his voice sharp and venomous.

He took off after her, fury surging through every step. With one hand, he yanked his phone from his pocket and barked rapid orders in Italian.

“Chiudetela! Nessuno la lascia uscire da questo dannato edificio! (Lock it down! No one lets her leave this damn building!)”

Xena’s breath was ragged, her heart racing as her feet flew across the hallway.

She didn’t know where she was, but she knew she had to get out.

Then—salvation.

The elevator.

She launched herself inside, fingers jabbing the close button again and again like her soul depended on it. The door began to slide shut just as Marco turned the corner.

Their eyes locked.

His face—pure fury.

Her face—pure terror.

“XENA!” he roared, lunging.

Too late.

The door slammed shut between them.

Marco slammed his fist against it, a guttural sound ripping from his chest.

“APRITE LA CAZZO DI PORTA! (OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!)” he howled at the guards through his phone, his body trembling with rage.

Inside the elevator, Xena fell to her knees, clutching her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks as her whole body shook.

But this wasn’t relief.

Because she didn’t know what waited at the bottom.

And Marco... he wouldn’t stop.